


Is Thievery a Sin?

by adrift_me



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, M/M, Romance, Waltzing, aziraphale is a soft marshmallow, inspired by the title song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Does it count if what Aziraphale steals is a smile from a demon's lips?Waltzing Aziraphale and Crowley and some romantic shenanigans.





	Is Thievery a Sin?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone <3 This is my tiny contribution to the Good Omens series hype. What an adorable TV show and what a lovely pairing. I hope you who read this - enjoy!
> 
> Highly recommended to listen to the title song while reading :D
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr or send me prompts :)](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

Madame Bouchard would have caused a great scandal if she had ever cancelled one of the most popular entertainments of the autumn season in one distant but rather delightful province. It is her manor that attracts quite a guest list for a night of revelry and harmless debauchery. After all, what harm could be done if all the guests have to wear masks and conceal themselves under layers and layers of intricately put together costumes for the Grande Masquerade. 

“La Dolce Vita,” Aziraphale proclaims quietly, stepping up the high staircase, leading into the main hall of the manor. Music is booming from every corner already and a few waiting boys are carrying trays with little treats. Aziraphale, wiggling his fingers in anticipation, picks a few treats up and puts them in his mouth. Those are small puff pastries with gentle cream inside, soft and melting on his tongue. 

The angel makes his way through the thickening crowd. He feels a slight quiver of his wings, hidden by the God’s will alone, and that tells him of the excitement his corporeal body is experiencing. It is odd as it is pleasant.

The dancing room that Aziraphale graces with his presence is the most extravagant and stunning place he has ever been to. Not only are the decorations of the best quality, with glitters and golds and pearls, but the sheer presence of chaotic human nature here is invigorating. Aziraphale is quite the rebel when no one is looking.

Only there  _ is _ someone looking. He notices the gaze from across the dancing floor, striking eyes of burning gold stare at him as if no one else is present in an overcrowded room. And even the mask cannot hide that gaze.

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale immediately stutters, pushing carefully beside a dancing couple. “Excusez-moi!”

Ladies and gentlemen give him a half annoyed look from under their masks before music and their dance partner’s smiles sweeps their irritation away.

The angel finds himself being met with the same movement from the figure ahead, pushing through the crowd, until he meets Aziraphale in the very center.

There are no words - just an immediate movement, and Aziraphale’s hand rests in Crowley’s hand - for it is indeed Crowley, pulling him into the waltz. Soft angelic hands holds onto the demon's shoulder as they are swept with the crowd, the music. 

“Enjoying the party, my dear Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, trying not to let his legs stumble like a wobbly dish of jelly. It's not just the music and excitement of the dance, it's the warmth of Crowley’s hand and burn of his eyes that makes him feel a little more unsteady than he normally is. 

“It is fine,” the demon replies, moving in perfect harmony. “I dare say Madame Geiger had a party with a more tasteful crowd previously, but she certainly lacks the grace to actually invite us.”

"Of course!" Aziraphale exclaims as if his dancing partner has said something terribly obvious, almost to the point of embarrassment. 

They dance on, synchronized with the crowd, avoiding heels and sweeping tails of gowns. Aziraphale admires Crowley’s mask for a moment. The black material of it is sleek, glossy, perfectly contrasting with a pair of curious golden snake eyes. 

"You are quite a dancer, Crowley. It's a pleasant surprise," the angel says as the music winds down. 

"Likewise,” the demon teases. “Care for another?" 

Crowley snaps his fingers at the musicians, who begin playing something… Very hellish, or so would any angel say. There is frivolity and boundless passion in that piece of music, faster than the previous waltz, but exciting.

“When do I ever refuse you, Crowley,” Aziraphale laughs, allowing the demon to take charge of the dance again. It is highly improper, dancing in such a society with none other than a demon from the down below. That below that no one talks about in a positive light or in a respected circle.

But Aziraphale is not prone to seeking respect, and the demon’s tempting charms, well, tempt him away from any last remnants of angelic decency.

Crowley is not a mind reader, but even he would notice the blush on the angel’s delicate pale face and the pressure of smiling lips that can’t seem to relax. The demon smirks, pulling Aziraphale closer to escape stepping on another couple’s feet. But as they pass, they stay just as close, and Aziraphale can feel the folds and texture of Crowley’s outfit against his chest. It is quite… zestful.

How many dances have they had? Or smiles or awkward squeezes of hands and laced fingers? Aziraphale may have lost count, he wasn’t paying attention to that.

He is much more invested in that drunken feeling of joy and the approval of golden flaring eyes. And the need to lean in and kiss thin smiling lips, if only to steal that smile.

They say thievery is a sin, but Aziraphale would argue that the smile was, in fact, given to him willingly.


End file.
